Page 27 of Ridin' Free
Now he knew, that wasn’t the half of it.
SIX DAYS LATER
It wasby somemiracle I managed to go five days without seeing him.
Saturday night, I drove home, locked myself inside, and headed straight for the bathroom. I drew myself a hot bath, turned on my audiobook, and submerged myself in a desperate attempt to feel weightless—to float away from it all.
The mistakes I’d made.
The trauma I’d endured.
The demons I knew would haunt me forever.
For the first time in six years, I thought about calling out sick for my Sunday shift—but I didn’t go through with it. I might have embarrassed myself the night I ran out on Twister, but I wasn’t going to be a little bitch about it. Especially not at Mustang’s expense.
Fact of the matter was, it had been my fault.
I’d gone into that house. I’d taken off all my clothes.
I let him think he had access to me in a way he didn’t.
We were done. There was no question about it.
He was going to be my first and last Stallion.
It was only meant to be one night.
I was the one who went and fucked it all up.
Whatever consequences came about as a result, I was going to have to handle them like a grown ass woman.
Except, Sunday night—he was a no show.
I didn’t see him Monday or Tuesday because the bar was closed, and he didn’t know where I lived. We never exchanged phone numbers, so he hadn’t called me demanding an explanation, either.
Not that he was going to get one.
It was now blatantly obvious I didn’t letanyoneput me on my back, and that was all the explanation he was going to get.
When he didn’t step foot into the bar Wednesday or Thursday night, I couldn’t help but to get a little curious. He didn’t seem the type to let this sort of thing go. After one night together, he sought me out. Not once, but twice—and that wasbeforethe date.
His avoidance of me didn’t add up.
I wanted to ask Rodeo if the VP was out on club business, but so far as I was aware, no one knew about us. The last thingI wanted to do was draw attention to something that was over before it even began.
So, I waited. I waited, and I tried not to read into his actions—or the lack thereof.
But I knew the silence wouldn’t last forever.
At some point, he was going to walk through those doors.
What he would say to me, I couldn’t guess.
Best case scenario, he’d order a beer, and we’d both pretend nothing happened.
But I knew better than to hope for the best-case scenario.
A pair of our Friday night regulars strolled in and caught my eye. They were an older couple, maybe in their late sixties, and they rode in whenever the weather was nice. They lived forty minutes outside of Gillette, in the tiny town of Pine Haven. They weren’t affiliated with any club, they simply liked to ride. The vibe of the bar made them feel part of something.
